Leopold frowned over the letter when he received it. They would have to watch Albert’s health. He would write to Stockmar asking him to superintend his diet. Of course this lack of grace was due to his having been brought up without a mother and with no really cultivated women, except his two grandmothers, near him.
There was more to worry Leopold. He had had a strange letter from his niece. He was getting rather uneasy about Victoria. Since her accession she had changed. She had more or less told him that she did not expect him to meddle in English politics and that she must refer his suggestions to her Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne, and her Foreign Secretary, Lord Palmerston. This was a blow considering that he had thought he would be the one to whom she would turn for advice.
Now she was writing that she was not at all eager for marriage. She wanted to know whether Albert was aware that a marriage between them was being discussed by his father and their uncle Leopold. Albert must be made aware, she insisted, that there was no engagement between them, because she was not at all sure whether she would like Albert as a husband. She might like him as a brother or a cousin but that was not the same as a husband, and she must remind everyone that if she decided not to marry Albert she would not be guilty of any breach of promise because she had never given a promise. She could make no final promise that year and at the very earliest would not wish to marry for two or three years hence. She wanted Uncle Leopold to know that there was no anxiety in her country for her marriage.
Leopold cursed softly as he laid down the letter.
He was disappointed in his little Victoria. How she had changed! He had little doubt of his ability to persuade her, but she was very impressionable, young and romantic, and there should be no further delay in bringing about a meeting.
After all Victoria was now twenty and Albert on the point of becoming so. That was old enough for marriage.
He was disturbed about Stockmar’s comment on Albert’s behaviour with women. Albert was really very good-looking; he had a fine figure, was tall, and his features were exactly like those of his mother. He was, in fact, a little like Victoria to look at. She must like his appearance. But he must be warned that he should not appear to be over-confident. He had to woo Victoria. And the sooner he began the better.
The first thing to do was to warn him of Victoria’s unwillingness to make up her mind, which would prevent his being too confident.
Albert’s reply alarmed him at first. He would, he told his uncle, be prepared to wait providing there was a definite promise and a certainty that the marriage would take place.
If, he pointed out, after waiting for three years he should find the Queen no longer desired the marriage, he would be put in a very undignified position, and it would perhaps ruin his prospects for the future.
This reply did not displease Leopold and Stockmar.
‘He is becoming ambitious,’ said Stockmar. ‘And that is what I hoped for.’
Leopold’s answer was: ‘There must be no more delays. Albert and Victoria must be brought face to face as soon as possible.’
It was arranged that the meeting should take place in October.
‘Ernest should go with Albert,’ commanded Leopold. ‘If by any chance Victoria should decide not to take Albert, it would be as well to have an alternative choice.’
It seemed to Albert that September, when the leaves began to change, that they had never before been so beautiful. It was a wonderful month and he was happy to be home, but poignantly so, for soon he must leave. The great test was coming nearer; sometimes he welcomed it, sometimes dreaded it. It hurt his dignity that he should have to present himself for the Queen’s approval; if she were to decide against him he would be a laughing-stock; and on the other hand if she still remained undecided and wanted to keep him dangling, that position was almost as undesirable.
He talked it over with Ernest as they stalked deer in the forest or shot wild fowl or collected pieces of rock for their ‘museum’.
All Ernest would say was wait and see; and at the end of September they were ready to make the journey to England.
The wretchedness of that sea crossing was even worse than he had imagined it would be. He lay groaning on his bunk thinking, as he had on a previous occasion, that death would be preferable to such humiliating suffering. It did not make him feel better to realise that his brother and others of the party did not share his sickness, and he believed that the crew secretly jeered at him.
The terrible rocking of the boat, those high grey waves, the fearful nausea … oh, how he longed for the peace of Rosenau! To go back there, to live in obscurity, to be poor – for he should be as a second son; and even Ernest, the future Duke, would not be affluent – anything was better than this. Indeed the peace of the forest and the simple life seemed very desirable.
The crossing at last came to an end, and pale and feeble he staggered ashore. Ernest was beside him, ready for adventure. Surely, thought Albert, she will choose Ernest.
The baggage could not be found but they decided to go on without it.
‘It’s fortunate,’ said Ernest, ‘that the Queen is at Windsor. You’ll recover during the journey and the country air will do you good.’
Albert, though still pale and wan, felt better as they rode through the fresh green fields. He saw the castle – grey and seeming impregnable before him – and his spirits rose. If he were a king in such a castle with its vistas of green fields and forests, he could be content, he believed.
So much would depend on Victoria, of course.
They had arrived; the grooms had taken their horses and told them: ‘Her Majesty is ready to receive you.’
So they entered the castle.
She was standing at the top of the staircase, a diminutive figure with flushed cheeks and sparkling blue eyes.
‘My dear cousins,’ she cried, holding out her hands.
Ernest first because he was the elder. She smiled up at him.
‘Dear Ernest, I am so happy to see you. And Albert … Albert …’
She glowed with delight; her gaze rested on him.
‘Dear cousin Albert, welcome to Windsor.’
It was on Albert that her gaze lingered. His heart leaped in triumph, for he was almost sure that he was the chosen one.
Chapter V
THE BRIEF HONEYMOON
It was indeed triumph. The Queen was too candid by nature to hide her feelings and she made it clear to all about her, including Albert, that she found him fascinating.
She confided to the Baroness Lehzen that Albert was all she had hoped for. Did not Lehzen find him handsome? He had such beautiful blue eyes; his nose was quite exquisite; his mouth was pretty.
‘Does one expect a man’s mouth to be pretty?’ asked Lehzen; and was told sharply that with so many ugly mouths in evidence it was a pleasure to see one which was charming.
It was clear that Victoria would have no criticism of Albert.
The Baroness was a little apprehensive. Having been the Queen’s governess and closest companion since she was five years old, she had considerable influence with her and did not wish to lose it now. The influence had come through affection which was the only way in which it was possible to guide Victoria. Since the Queen was not on good terms with her mother she had come to regard Lehzen in that light; Victoria’s affections overflowed; she loved and hated passionately; there were no fine shades of feeling. She loved her Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne, unswervingly; she hated his opposite number, Sir Robert Peel, and would hear no good of him; the Baroness Lehzen, who had been, as she said, a mother to her, she loved passionately, whereas although she would not admit that she disliked her mother (Victoria had a keen sense of the proprieties and no good person could dislike a mother) she was very critical of everything she did. This antagonism had been aggravated by the palace factions – that headed by the Queen and the other led by her mother the Duchess. It was an unhappy state of affairs, but as Lord Melbourne, the witty Prime Minister, had said, it was an old Hanoverian custom for parents to quarrel with their children.